That Darn CAT
by Twinings
Summary: There was no way this could have gone according to plan. -CAT-
1. Six pounds

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_CATfic. (www. freewebs. com/ catverse)_

_It takes place in September, 2016, the final story of Arc Six. I hadn't intended to post it until the rest of the arc, or at least most of it, was up. But this is finished and I'm currently a little over-aware of the nature of impending doom, so I have to POST, POST, POST._

_I think that's all I needed to say.

* * *

_

Saturday night--movie night--had come around again. The Captain had insisted on another zombie movie, and no one--_no one_--was going to argue with her.

As it turned out, pregnant mood swings were ten times worse than PMS. And they could happen at any time, for any reason, or for no reason at all.

And the only thing scarier than one of the Scarecrow's henchgirls in a psychotic rage was one of the Scarecrow's henchgirls in a psychotic rage with uncontrollable weeping and morning sickness.

The Captain (poor dear) was dealing with something she had never before experienced in her life. No longer could she be described as a skinny little girl, or scrawny, spindly, stick-thin, boyishly slender, or (her personal favorite) Scarecrowesque.

She was big.

She was _huge_.

She was massive.

She was positively gargantuan.

She looked like she'd swallowed a cow.

_I don't know how she swallowed the cow._

The Captain was sitting on the couch with Al squeezed in on her left and the Scarecrow on her right. He was finally resigned to at least minimal physical contact, which was a damn good thing, because by the end of the movie, she was going to be sprawled across both their laps like a long, lumpy house cat.

There wasn't room for all four of them on the couch anymore, but Techie was comfortable curled up on the rug at their feet. Some time in the not-too-distant future, she was going to realize she was too old to lie on the floor for hours in the middle of winter, but that day hadn't come yet. Hopefully, when it did, no one would be preggers.

Techie started the movie, fervently hoping that the sight of all that blood wouldn't make the Captain hungry again. Last time she'd gotten a mystery craving, it had taken hours of trial and error before they had hit on the winning combination of raw spinach and chocolate syrup.

She shouldn't have worried. The opening credits had barely begun to roll when a set of nearly identical shrieks from above startled her out of her comfortable daze. She was on her feet before she knew what was happening, reaching for a weapon to defend her friends.

She registered three facts almost simultaneously.

She had no weapon.

There was no intruder.

The Captain was doubled over, face contorted in pain, gripping Al and Jonathan by the arms. And they looked to be in more pain than she was.

Techie did the math (such as it was) and was instantly glad that she had chosen the spot on the floor.

"Captain? Captain, please let go," Al said urgently. The Captain groaned and reflexively tightened her grip. Al went a bit white about the lips.

"Captain," the Scarecrow said sharply. With a startled gasp, she let them go. They both popped up to hide behind Techie--they might not have called it that, but _she_ certainly did.

"Time?" she asked mildly. The Captain nodded miserably, biting her bottom lip hard to keep from crying out.

"What was _that_?" Crane demanded.

"It's called a contraction, _Doctor_ Crane." He glared at her.

"Damn it, Techie, I'm a psychologist, not a midwife!"

At any other time, she would have gloated over the fact that he was finally being affected by the Trek residue that years of late-night marathons had left in their various lairs. But at any other time, the Captain would have joined her in a squee moment. Classic Trek was their private bonding ritual, rarely intruded on by anyone--because the Scarecrow claimed to have better things to do than watch a campy science fiction show, and Al had been banned the minute she made known her unreasoning hatred of William Shatner.

"Are we going to the hospital?" Al asked.

"Of course we're going to the hospital! You heard the man--he's not a midwife, and I can't exactly see _you_ catching the baby!"

"But we're wanted criminals."

"And this is just occuring to you? Al, we worked out all these details months ago."

"Um--" the Captain started.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It didn't _sound_ like nothing."

"My...water broke."

Crane took another step back.

"You three have fun with this. I'll be in the lab."

"JONATHAN CRANE, YOU TAKE ONE STEP OUT OF THIS ROOM AND YOU'LL WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN **BORN**!" the Captain wailed. He froze.

"But..."

"Take me to the hospital," she growled. "Argue on the way. Just get me to the--oh, _God_." She reached out to one of them--any one. After a moment, Al came forward to take her friend's hand.

"Okay, Captain, don't w--oh, _God_!" She went down on one knee, twisting in the Captain's grip.

"Uh-oh," Techie muttered. Crane glared at her suspiciously.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well...do you remember that Hell Day when we...'asked' you to stock up on stronger spoons?"

He couldn't help it--the words made him flinch. "Hell Day" was the Captain's name for the first of each group of days marked in red on each month of his calendar, and he had to admit, he couldn't think of a more apt term for the situation.

And he did clearly recall that particular Hell Day. He had entered the kitchen in spite of deep misgivings, attracted by the sound of screaming and intrigued by the fact that, by late afternoon, they hadn't offered him so much as a smile and a chocolate chip.

He had found Al weeping and obsessively snapping her purple rubber gloves. The Captain had been curled up on the floor, unmoving, with a puddle of soup spreading from an overturned bowl at her side. And Techie had been screaming at the spoons and banging them against the counter one by one, separating the metal from the plastic handles.

As he recalled, the last of the spoons had met its end quivering in the wall just beyond his head.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Mon Capitan broke the first spoon. One minute she's eating, then..." She raised a clenched fist. "Snap. And now she's having contractions?" She shrugged. "Do yourself a favor and don't get any grabbable parts in range."

"If you two are done with your little sewing circle..." Crane looked down and inadvertently smiled at the sight of Al lying on the flor, clutching her hand. Normally, seeing him smile, the Captain would have smiled back.

Now she just gasped and reached out to him, looking on the verge of tears.

He looked at Techie.

"_You_ get her up."

"Are you kidding? I _like_ my hands. I'm _using_ them."

"Are you using them to drive?"

She fell silent, looking down at Al, who was clearly _not_ going to be the one to get them to the hospital.

"Okay, Captain, let's--a"

"No!"

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I don't want to! I made a mistake!"

"You're coming to this conclusion about nine months too late," Crane said. "Now, get up unless you want to have this baby in the bathtub."

She burst into tears.

"Stop that," he said, alarmed. She doubled over, sobbing. "What's wrong with you--what's wrong with her?"

"Hormones," said Techie.

"Lost her smegging marbles," Al corrected.

"I can't--bathtub," the Captain sobbed.

"I didn't mean--will you just try to be reasonable? Get up."

"Okay." Still sobbing pathetically, she reached up to him for help.

Damn her. He knew he was going to regret this.

He took her arm and helped her up. Techie grinned.

"You--"

"Feel free to finish that sentence if you've grown tired of living," he snapped.

"I'll just get the door."

Al slid under the Captain's other arm, looking perfectly fine except for her hand, while Techie opened the front door. The Captain leaned against Crane's shoulder, cuddling, much to his annoyance, but at least she let them lead her outside and into the parking garage.

When she saw the elevator doors, she tried to stop. They dragged her onward and pressed the button.

"Oh, do we have to?"

"Captain," Crane snapped, "_I_ don't care if you want to die in childbirth, but you're not doing it here, at my feet."

"Who'd clear up the mess?" Al added.

"Techie," the Captain said, quite reasonably.

"Oh...shut up and get in the elevator."

"But I don't like the doctor!"

"The doctor doesn't like _you_," Crane said, and propelled her toward the open doors. She let him force her into the car, then caught his arm and pulled him toward her with the classic puppydog eyes.

"Don't leave me, Squishy."

He shook his arm, trying to get it out of her grip before another contraction hit. She clung to him.

"Don't worry," said Techie. "I'll drive."

He was torn between calling out to Al and Techie not to leave him _alone_ with her, and just shaking her off and leaving them all to fend for themselves.

Then the doors closed, robbing him of the choice.

He pressed the button and tried patting her shoulder in an awkward sort of way. She clung to him as the elevator started to rise.

Then, with a disturbing lurch and a grinding noise, it stopped.

The doors didn't open.

"Are we stuck?" the Captain asked.

"Um..." He hated to have to answer her this way. "I believe we are." She sagged against him.

"I knew there was a reason why I didn't like elevators. I'm going to panic now."

"Thank you for the warning." He helped her sit down, and watched as she burst into noisy, hysterical tears.

So this was how it was going to end. Trapped in an elevator with a madwoman who was--who was going into labor.

He tried to pry open the doors with his fingers, to no avail.

The Captain groaned as another contraction hit.

He pounded on the doors.

"Al! Techie! Get us _out_ of here!"

There was no response.

"Squishy," the Captain sobbed. Reluctantly, he knelt beside her and patted her on the shoulder.

"It's...um...it's going to be all right."

"It is not! I'm having my baby in an elevator with _you_! And we're going to plummet to our doom, the cable's going to snap, we're all going to die--"

"Get a grip on yourself!" He might have slapped her, but somehow that didn't seem the appropriate course of action to take with a pregnant woman.

"But..."

"But nothing. Just try to breathe. We'll be out of here soon." She clung to his arm.

"But I don't want to--this is worse than giving birth in a taxi."

"You never were one to do things according to tradition." He heard the sound of someone knocking on the elevator doors.

"Squishy? Are you stuck in there?" Al called.

"Yes!" He moved away from the Captain, back to the doors. "How soon can you get us out?"

"Um..."

Oh, that didn't sound promising. The Captain smothered a scream.

"Sooner would be better," he snapped.

"We could go look for a crowbar," Al suggested.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it _now_."

"I want Eddie," the Captain sobbed. He turned back to her.

"What?"

"I want Eddie and I want him here now! Please! Please just get him down here!"

He turned to the doors.

"You hear that? She's ready to make a family of it. One of you call Edward. Make _him_ deal with this."

"Family--fuck! I want him here so I can _kill_ him!"

He smiled. Even better.


	2. Seven ounces

Techie might not have done the best job of summoning Eddie. Sure, she got him there, but since she couldn't actually tell him _why_ he was being summoned, he showed up in a blind panic, sure the Captain must be on her deathbed, ready to say her final goodbyes.

He didn't feel any better when Techie made him climb into an elevator shaft, with the sound of agonized screams rising from the car below.

Still, he did it, dropping down next to Al, who was waiting on the elevator's roof, looking down through the emergency hatch. She hugged him.

"Finally! Get down there, Eddums. Captain needs you. And, hey, if you don't make it out...it's been a real pleasure."

"But...what's wrong with her?" he asked.

"She's having a baby, Eddie. What more do you need?"

"I just..."

"Just get down there, you silly ass." Anxiously, he peered over the edge. Jonathan was there...how bad could it be?

Well, he was glaring pretty severely.

"Took your time, didn't you?" Crane snapped. "Give me your hat."

"W-why? Does she need to throw up?"

"Give me the goddamn hat!" the Captain bellowed. Startled, he whipped the green bowler off his head and threw it at her. She seized it with both hands, crushed it to her face, and screamed into it, shoulders rising off the floor.

"Get down here, Edward," said Jonathan. Eddie hesitated. "Now!"

Eddie hopped down. His feet barely touched the floor before they left it again as Jonathan slammed him against the far wall.

"What are you doing?"

"This is _your_ fault," the Scarecrow growled. "Nine months of hell because of _you_. I'm delivering this woman's spawn in an elevator because of you! If you ever do this again, she'll be yours to deal with, and you're welcome to each other. Trust me, nothing else I could do to you would be worse than that."

"What did I do?" he asked blankly. Jonathan's hands tightened.

"What do you think you did?"

"Don't kill him," the Captain begged.

"Fine." He let go. Eddie backed away.

"Seriously. What did I do?"

"Eddie, come here," she said calmly. He dropped to his knees beside her. She grabbed his tie (lucky for him, he hadn't taken the time to knot it) and pulled him down so that they were face to face. "It's _your_ baby!"

"W-what?" he stammered.

"You didn't know? You didn't even guess? So much for Gotham's smartest villain! What did _you_ think was going on?"

Honestly, he'd thought the same thing everyone thought, that she and the Scarecrow had been particularly welcoming to each other after their time apart. But he couldn't exactly say that, not with Crane sitting right there, waiting for an excuse to remove his head from his shoulders.

"Firefly?" he suggested as the most likely alternative.

"_No, NOT Firefly damn it_! Why does everyone think it was Firefly? _Why_?!"

"Um--can I have my tie back?"

"_No_!" She gave the tie a sharp yank as punishment for an undesired question. He made a mental note to thank Techie for sounding so urgent over the phone. If he had stopped to dress properly, the windsor knot would have killed him.

"What...what should I do?" What did he know about childbirth? Shouldn't he be outside, smoking a cigar?

_His_ baby! How was that possible? He couldn't be a father; he didn't know how! It wasn't possible!

But she wouldn't be so mad at him if she wasn't sure...would she?

"Keep her breathing," said Crane. "It shouldn't be more than an hour."

An _hour_?! Eddie stared with rising panic at the Captain, whose white-knuckled grip on his tie had not slackened. She was already hyperventilating. What else was he supposed to do?

"Breathe," he said hesitantly. She yanked on his tie.

"Fuck you!"

This was clearly not the time to make the obvious joke.

"Do you need anything?" he asked. "Ice?" Ice had to be good, right? He'd seen it in a sitcom, and the tv wouldn't lie. Besides, he'd do anything to get out of the position of Lamaze partner.

"Why the hell would i want ice?" She shoved him away--a distinct relief, as his tie became his own property once more. But that hat would never sit right again. She was doing a damn good job of crushing it, considering it was reinforced with steel. It had saved his life a time or two, and now how was he supposed to wear it?

He took off his jacket, folded it up, and slipped it under her head while she was distracted. That should help, and it shouldn't give her any more reason to want him dead. Right?

"Should I hold her hand or something?" he asked. Jonathan shook his head, a clear gesture of warning.

"Just keep her breathing. I'll do the rest. It's almost time to push, Captain." His smile was downright malicious. She sobbed.

"I hate you, Edward Nygma! I hate you so much!"

"What did _I_ do?"

"You did this to me, you son of a bitch!"

"The way I heard it, Captain," Techie yelled from the roof, "_you_ brought the whipped cream." Eddie felt himself blush.

"You told them?"

"Of course she told them. They talk about these things," said Jonathan. "Constantly, I might add."

"But not _me_?"

The Captain, gasping, let her head fall back against her makeshift pillow. She seemed calmer now, if only because she was exhausted, but he still felt no desire to let himself get within easy reach of the unhappy camper.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want to be like--I mean, I didn't want to do that to you. You aren't ready to be somebody's father, and I won't force you to settle down and be a family man. I didn't want you to marry me."

"So, why the sudden change of heart?" The moment felt tender enough that he felt safe reaching out to brush her limp brown hair out of her eyes. She was trembling, sweat-soaked, but she didn't seem so furious anymore.

"It's yours," she said. "Your baby. I won't keep you away from your own child, not if you want him to know you. I couldn't."

And then the tender moment ended. She curled up, groaning in pain, while the Scarecrow urged her to push.

"Breathe," Eddie suggested. She glared at him with the bitter fury of a thousand hells.

"You worry about your own breathing, asshat."

"Okay, then." He stood up and backed away. Jonathan looked up at him with a smirk whose meaning he couldn't quite decipher.

"The baby's crowning. Edward, come see."

He did venture over, but he didn't see very much before his knees buckled and everything went black.

Dimly, he heard a squelchy sound, a loud, healthy squall, and the words, "It's a girl."

* * *

_Author's note: I lost the third chapter. I'm sorry. Very tired. Need to go to sleep. A shiny penny to anyone who can track it down in my livejournal or otherwise get me a copy before zero hour. Otherwise, it may be a very long wait._


	3. Eighteen inches

"Hi, baby girl. I'm your Aunt Techie," she cooed at the squirming bundle in her arms. "You stick with me. I'll teach you everything you need to know." 

"Hey, you've had her long enough. Hand her over," said Al. Techie hugged the baby closer, keeping her in the protective circle of her arms.

"You don't even like babies."

"Well, don't tell _her_ that!" She held out her hands. Reluctantly, Techie gave her the baby.

"You have to support her head," she said worriedly. Al settled the infant into an awkward-looking position that did, at least, manage to support her head. Then, smiling, she nuzzled the baby's cheek with her nose.

"Don't listen to her, squirt. You stick with Aunt Al. I'll be your source for chocolate." The baby made a questioning noise. "Yes, really," Al answered, as if they understood each other perfectly. "And, she's right, I don't like kids. But in your case, I'll make an exception." The baby let out a contented sigh. Al smiled up at the Scarecrow. "Want to hold her?"

"No."

"At least touch her."

"No," he insisted.

"Don't pay any attention to Uncle Squishy," said Al. "He loves you with all his evil little heart." He glared at her.

"You are not teaching that child to call me Squishy!"

"_Uncle_ Squishy," she taunted. With a growl, he took the baby from her.

For a moment, everyone looked alarmed, especially the Captain. But he cradled her against his chest more easily than Al had, showing no sign that he was about to drop her.

"You can call me Jonathan," he said, his voice only slightly softer than normal. "Stay out of my room and my lab, and I won't kill you. Got that?" She looked up at him—and he could have sworn she smiled. "Oh, you're going to grow up to be just like them, aren't you, Kitten?"

The three women giggled.

"You love her," the Captain murmured.

"I do not." He thrust the baby at the nearest person, who happened to be Edward. Looking absolutely panicked, he took her.

"Oh. It's soft."

"Well, of course it's soft," said Techie. "It's a baby." She helped him hold her correctly, since he obviously had no idea what to do with the wrinkly little thing.

"Now what do I do?" he asked.

"Tell her who you are," the Captain prompted.

"Oh. What do you want her to call me?"

"That's up to you." He looked down at the baby in his arms.

"Hi," he said awkwardly.

"You know, babies can hear you better if you talk in a high-pitched voice," Al suggested. He looked startled. "But that's entirely up to you, I suppose."

"Hi," he repeated, in a very slightly higher tone. "I guess I'm Uncle Eddie. Or Eddums, if you prefer. I'll be your favorite uncle. Trust me on that."

It was about then that Techie got That Look on her face. That Look being the one he had seen so many times from the Captain. Jonathan counted himself eternally grateful that she was facing Edward, and not him.

"I want a baby," she said wistfully.

Eddie's eyes went wide as he realized that he had no avenue of escape, other than distracting her by throwing the baby. And he wasn't quite ready to do that.

Jonathan turned away to hide his smile.

Only to find Al standing uncomfortably close to him, looking up at him with her big blue eyes wide and pleading.

"Squishykins?" she whispered. "Are you going to let him have _all_ the babies?"

He backed away from her.

Things were only going to go downhill.


End file.
